


...Go Crows?

by josephina_x



Series: Cotton Candy Bingo 2012 [10]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josephina_x/pseuds/josephina_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Committed (random time during 4x03 Facade)</p>
            </blockquote>





	...Go Crows?

Jonathan abruptly sat down next to Lex on the wooden bleachers.

Lex stiffened, then slowly turned his head towards him.

"Uh... Hello, Mr. Kent...?"

Jonathan grunted at him, eyes on the field.

Lex followed his gaze and realized that he was watching Clark.

...Make that _scowling_ at Clark.

"...Can I help you with something?" Lex asked slowly, trying to ignore the urge to run screaming from the stands or, well, at least edge away from the man until he was out of arm's reach, at least.

"He shouldn't be playing."

Lex blinked at him.

"Whyever not?" Lex could not help but to ask.

Jonathan barely spared him a glance ...one that made him feel like the dumbest man alive. "Somebody's going to get hurt."

Lex frowned.

"Clark knows how to control his strength."

Jonathan made a dismissive sound, as though Lex didn't know what he was talking about.

Lex's mouth thinned.

"Mr. Kent," he said under his breath. "Your concern is unnecessary. When I discovered his desire to play on the team, and he told me of his concerns, I spent several weeks helping him train at restraining his strength, speed, and reflexes. He knows what he's doing."

Jonathan snorted, not looking away from Clark. "Oh, sure, because a Luthor knows so much about _restraint_."

Lex stared at him for a moment.

Then he got up and made his way down the bleachers to the first row that was down and level with the field.

"Clark," he said under his breath, careful to keep his tone smooth and even, while controlling his facial expression and the tension in his hands and arms, "just so you know, **this** is me _being restrained_."

He regretted it a moment later when he saw Clark turn his head to flick him gaze over at him...

...and then up at his adoptive father...

...because of the way Clark's face lit up at Jonathan's presence -- and then **fell** directly after, when he realized why Jonathan was really there, watching.

\---

Somehow, Lex got the feeling that downtalking Jonathan, starting with 'that man is an idiot' and ending with-- well, something that would probably have Martha either vehemently _agreeing_ with him (scary) or washing his mouth out with _soap_ (ick), and was also probably not a good idea to voice around Clark, openly or within earshot or otherwise.

Within earshot covered a _lot_ of ground.

...especially in the flat farmlands of Kansas.

So Lex didn't downtalk Jonathan.

Out loud.

Instead, he asked Clark, "Do you think I could get away with wearing a beer hat to your practices?"

Clark, who was walking alongside him to the car -- being chaperoned-slash-bodyguarded by Lex in an effort to ward off Jonathan's presence, rather, or so Lex hoped -- turned to give Lex a 'what the heck?' look of nigh-epic proportions.

Then he rolled his eyes skyward and muttered, "I'm probably gonna regret this," before saying more loudly, "Why do you want a beer hat?"

Lex hit the remote unlock for his car, and said, matter-of-factly, "So I'll have something on hand to douse your ex-adoptive-parent with, the next time he shows."

Clark glanced over at Lex.

Lex glanced back.

Clark realized that his step-brother was perfectly serious about this.

Clark slowly tilted his head down towards the ground, and covered his face with his hands.

"Please don't," he asked, his voice muffled by his palms.

"Soda?"

"Lex."

"Gatorade?"

" _Lex_."

"No, wait -- you're right, dumping gatorade on his head has positive connotations from his football days, he might think that's a good thing; best not to confuse him," Lex revised with a twist of downturned lips.

Clark made a strangled noise that sounded a little like "...why me?"

"Well, I'm not wasting a _milkshake_ on him," Lex put out there as he opened the car door. "Ideally I would throw a bucket of water on him the next time he acts up, but I can't just bring a bucket of water to throw on him up into the stands -- he'll see it sitting right there next to me," Lex explained.

Clark adopted a look of not-so-stoic tried patience, got into the car, and waited.

Lex, somewhat distracted by his planning and replanning and re-replanning, muttered to himself absently as he got into the car and started the engine.

Then he finally seemed to become fully aware of his surroundings again.

"Do you have any ideas, Clark?" he asked.

Clark let out a breath that was almost a sigh.

"Yes, I do," he told Lex. "It's called, 'we don't dump liquids on Jonathan when he shows up to my football practices, because it's not polite'."

"He started it."

"...He dumped water on you?" Clark said dubiously, turning to give him a _**look**_.

"You know, if you spent less time practicing that with Martha and more time on your Mandarin Chinese language independent study--"

" _Lex_."

"--in a manner of speaking, yes, he did," Lex ended sourly as he gunned the engine, then backed out of the parking space smoothly and pulled into the street, flawlessly merging with the traffic, all with one fluid steering motion.

"One of these days, somebody's gonna ticket you for that," Clark commented as Lex slid on his sunglasses and made for the mansion.

"What, wearing sunglasses, or knowing how to handle my cars properly?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "And don't think I don't know that you're trying to change the subject with the way you were driving, either."

The corners of Lex's mouth twitched upwards for a moment. Then they went a little crooked, and he somewhat-warned, "You know, one of these days I'm going to get you to agree with one of my plans without needing blackmail to do it."

"...and on that day I will have become a true Luthor," Clark intoned, hand over his heart.

"-- _Blasphemy_ ," Lex censored immediately with mock shock right back, as they turned off of the side street they were taking away fro the school and hit the main drag.

Clark grinned.

Lex smiled. His work was done.

...for now. He had a little less than twenty-four hours until Clark's next football practice, not much time in which to figure out a way to derail Jonathan's idiocy, and then enact it -- _successfully._ This would require planning.

"Do you think he's right?" Clark asked nervously.

...or less time even than that. Crap.

"Clark, I'd trust you enough to put _myself_ in the line of fire, as it were, and I have no idea how to play football," Lex told him. "Besides, you already made a committment to the team."

Clark twisted in his seat uncomfortably. "But--"

But Lex wasn't done. "What that means is that you've promised to put in the effort needed to be a working, integral part of the rest of the group. You can't just back out now. Certainly not because you think it might be a little hard to get things right."

"That's not--"

"-- _Clark_." Lex stopped himself mid-rejoinder and sighed. "Look. Some of your teammates are going to spend their time training to get themselves in good condition, or better at running and throwing and tackling and whatnot, yes? _Your_ training regime is just a little different than theirs on what you're focusing on, because you're already good at those things," Lex explained. "That's what a training regime _is_ \-- upkeep on what you're already good at, with the main focus on what you're trying to improve upon."

Clark looked a little startled, then thoughtful, and he went silent for awhile.

Finally, he said, "...Do you think that d-- that Jonathan might stop worrying so much if I showed him what we've been working on?"

 _Doubtful._ Jonathan was stubborn, close-minded, and half the time couldn't see what was right in front of him, staring him directly in the face. ...or wouldn't _admit_ it. _You can't convince someone of something when they only see what they want to see._ But how to explain this to Clark?

"If I show him how much I've improved -- that I really do have it under control now -- that could work, right?" Clark said, looking over at Lex.

Lex glanced over at Clark, and the hope shining in his eyes.

"...Maybe," Lex said tentatively.

So, after Clark got his homework done...

\---

Jonathan came to the next practice.

This time he was cheering in the stands and yelling encouragement.

 _Right_ in Lex's ear (argh).

In all seriousness and honesty, truth be told, Lex would have rather had to put up with Pete being there, than... _this_.

**And that was saying something.**

Also, Lex was still a little sore from having played the role of 'football person' for Clark's demonstrations, and _yes_ it had been very realistic.

 _No_ , this in no way impacted his mood. He just didn't like Jonathan. _At **all.**_

Clark was happy though, and that mitigated everything else somewhat.

The things Lex put up with for his (step-)brother.

So he sat with Jonathan in the rickety old wooden bleachers for every practice, overlooking Clark's high-school football field, trying to understand the method to the madness by observation only, and was _almost_ starting to build up an immunity to the man's presence, a mutual sort of standoff that allowed for the pretense of their almost-getting-along...

...and then Lionel and Martha attended the first game day.

...

...In retrospect? It could have been worse.


End file.
